The Voyage
by twostrandsofmelody
Summary: An eventual story full of one-shots taking place during Christine, Raoul, and Gustave's voyage from France to America.
1. Chapter 1

"Are you excited about America Gustave?" Christine questioned as she slipped her gloves off of her hands. She enjoyed these quiet evenings that she got to spend with Gustave in her cabin. Raoul spent his time drinking away in the bar on board. And as terrible as it was for a wife to admit, it was more comfortable in the cabin when Raoul was away. Especially with Gustave. They had never gotten along and that was one thing that she yearned for above all else.

Even if he weren't Raoul's.

She wondered if Raoul ever wondered about Gustave. He had been such a healthy premature little boy. Born a whole month before he was meant to be born. But not really, he was born exactly on time. Nine months since she had last seen her masked phantom. Truly a ghost in her memory now.

Ten years and she had heard no word from him. No letter. Nothing.

Gustave's conception had been easy to cover up. She spent her wedding night gravely ill, brushed aside as a mixture of anxiety and the tight corset that she had worn. The next day Raoul was forced to tend to business a few towns away and it was decided that Christine was not in well enough health to travel alongside him.

Their wedding night had been postponed.

A few weeks later, upon their first night as woman and man she found that Raoul did not seem to notice that she was not an intact virgin – and if he did he never said a word. Perhaps he believed that with all of her years as a dancer she had broken it. He would never dare believe that she had touched that hideous beast that taught her to sing.

It had been so wrong to lie to him and tell him just a week later that she believed herself to be pregnant. She had already known for a week that she was. A week before she had ever slept with her husband.

That one beautiful night, a moonless night, had brought more than she had bargained. She had only meant to journey to the cemetery to visit her father's grave and instead found herself swept into the arms of the man that she loved. It was only in the morning that she realized as she pulled her cloak across her bare form, that it was her wedding day and her lover was gone.

No note. Nothing.

"I can't wait to see the sights! Is the theatre going to be large?"

"It will be smaller than what you're used to, I'm certain. New York is such a small city, so much crammed into small blocks." Christine brushed her hand through her little boy's hair, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Rogers and Hammerstein were smart to higher you mother."

"I'm certain you'll love the city." Christine smiled, hiding the frown that threatened to surface. She and Raoul had had to nearly beg the composers to higher her to come and sing. Mainly Raoul, who was desperate to use her talents to pay off his ever rising debts.

He had started to drink when Gustave had turned four. With a busybody little boy to care for Christine had lost interest in her husband. Though he constantly berated her to let the nanny put their son to bed, she insisted that she was the one who needed to stay by his side until he fell asleep. He started to drift away in the evenings, going to taverns to spend his night with liquor if his lady wouldn't tend to him.

She knew his alcoholism was her fault. But she couldn't be the woman he so desperately needed if he couldn't be the man she desired. It wasn't his fault, it was purely her own.

"Is it big?"

"Massive!" Christine laughed as Gustave danced around in front of her. "But I have only seen pictures. This is my first time across the sea as well."

"Mother will you sing for me?" Gustave questioned as he stopped his merry dancing in front of the piano. "Father is not here to tell you to stop. I don't think he likes it when you sing."

"He has had headaches from being on this ship for so long." Christine explained, rising to her feet and moving towards the piano she had had moved into her cabin. "We were reacquainted when we were younger because of my voice." It had nearly been ten years.

"What do they wish for you to sing?"

"They will give me my music once we arrive. But I do have an old piece of music here. One of my old favourites." She remembered all too well that she only got to sing the song because of her phantom. He had caused the backdrop to fall on Carlotta.

"Think of Me." Gustave snatched the sheet music out of her hands, his eyes hungrily looking at the notes and the music. "It's beautiful."

"You've yet to hear it, silly!" Christine took the music back from her son, placing it on the piano.

"Wait!" Gustave stopped her from sitting down. He sat down at the piano and began to play the notes, with slight hesitancy but with a sureness that terrified her. He was born a natural at the instrument. Just like his father.

"When we return home to Paris I would like to get you your own sheet music." Christine pressed a kiss to the top of Gustave's head.

"I have these songs in my head that I would like to play."

"Share with me one." Christine sat on the edge of the piano bench. She was curious to see if Gustave could compose like his father could.

Gustave scratched his head for a moment before starting to play the song that had been haunting him for days. It was a beautiful song that flowed like a piece that he had been practicing for years. It was freeing to have the song out of his mind and filling the air.

"Now will you sing?"

"Of course." Christine smiled down at her son. He wasted no time in starting the song over, playing it with frightening accuracy. He never liked to make mistakes.

"Think of me, think of fondly…"

Christine could remember that day like it were yesterday. She was brimming with excitement as she stood before the audience and sang her first solo for anyone other than the Phantom. The applause had been deafening and it thrilled her like nothing else. She knew that _he_ would be pleased.

"What is this noise?" Raoul roared as he barreled through the door, stumbling over his own two feet.

Gustave reeled his hands away from the piano, starring up at his father. "I wanted to hear mother sing."

"That song…" Raoul smiled vaguely, "What's happened to us since then?"

"Not with Gustave here," Christine pressed, making haste to reach her husband before he collapsed in a drunken heap in the middle of the floor. "Gustave, run along to your room. I'll see you in the morning love."

Raoul laughed coldly, "Love."

"Go." Christine nodded to the door, watching sadly as her son made a slow trek towards the door. His eyes were wide and sad as he glanced back at the piano. "Good night mother, good night father. I love you both."

"Raoul!" Christine hissed, "You mustn't come back when Gustave's here. I don't want him to see you like this."

"Like what?"

"_Drunk_." Christine led him to the sofa, helping him sit down. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Not _nearly_ enough." Raoul gritted, leaning back. "Get me a glass of that champagne I had brought up last night."

Christine frowned as she did as he asked. After everything she had done to him, how could she deny him the right to a glass of champagne?

**A/N: Just a little diddy I came up with after thinking of how long the three of them had to have been on that voyage from France! I may write more little One-Shots as things come up in my mind. **


	2. Chapter 2

Gustave was with their nanny for the evening, keeping the young woman entertained with his chatter about whimsy and music. The young woman had been caring for Gustave since he was six, and didn't seem bothered by the young boy's overactive imagination and panache for creation. Unlike Raoul's intolerance, both Christine and Maria loved to listen to Gustave.

Tonight the ship offered a dance for the adult patrons on the voyage. Though Christine would have much rather stayed in her cabin, she allowed Raoul's pleas to dance sway her into attending. She had to bend to Raoul's desires occasionally, even when she knew they'd end with him sitting at the bar drinking himself into oblivion.

Not matter what she said or did, Raoul still found himself finishing off drink after drink. The past ten years had not been kind to him. Where she had grown from immature young woman into a motherly and determined woman, he changed from handsome young man into a drunken ogre. But he was her husband one way or the other.

"You look beautiful tonight." Raoul stated, taking her hand for the first dance. "You look as beautiful as you did that first night that I danced with you."

"That was an awful long time ago." Christine replied, putting on the bravest face that she could. She had pushed away the thoughts of that gala for so many years. She had been so naïve then. So young and so foolishly innocent.

"The night that we had meant to announce our engagement." Raoul smiled at his still young and vibrant wife, "You were so afraid of what… _he_ would say about it."

"Let's not talk of him. Let the ghosts of the past stay in the past."

"He was a monster."

"I won't speak ill of the dead." Christine looked away from Raoul's face.

"I am sorry." Raoul broke away from her, leaving her standing on the dance floor. He strode across the hall, stopping at the bar. He laid a coin down on the counter, rubbing his hands together as the mug was filled before him.

"Raoul," Christine started as she walked up behind him. "Why must you drink so much?"

"It makes me happy."

"I do not make you happy?" Christine asked, cautious of any one around them hearing her.

"Not for a long time." Raoul replied, seemingly uncaring if the world heard their conversation. "You are not that girl any longer."

"You are not that handsome young boy anymore either." Christine frowned, "Raoul, please… be him again and I can be her again. In love… Happy."

"Happy." Raoul laughed. "What's that?"

"Oh." Christine bit her lip, turning away. It was hopeless. "I'm going back to the room."

"_No_." Raoul grabbed Christine by the wrist. "Stay here."

"Let go of me Raoul." Christine replied firmly, shaking his hand off of her. "I won't have you acting like this in public."

"Go back to the room then." Raoul snapped. "I'll see you when I get there."

"No." Christine paused, "I'm going to make a bed in Gustave's room."

"That damned boy!" Raoul slammed his mug down at the bar, the well-dressed bar tender eyed them.

"He's your son." Christine retorted, stepping back incase Raoul lashed out again. "It's only for tonight."

"I will not have us sharing separate beds on this ship."

"You hardly make it to bed every evening. You and your lover," Christine gestured to the mug. "Are too busy at night to come to bed."

Raoul didn't speak.

"I'm going to our room. I'm tired. Good night." Christine said with a little bit a bristle in her voice. She placed a chaste kiss to his cheek and retired from the dance hall. She knew she wouldn't see him until he crawled into the bedroom in the early hours of the morning, with just enough time to wash off and change his clothes.

Breakfast would never be any better than dinner. He was always bitter and hostile. One word and he would attack. Where had their vows gone? On her part she carried on being his wife, loving and caring for him as much as she could. But she never seemed to have the care returned to her by Raoul. In ten years she had seen a man deteriorate.

She did love Raoul. Not nearly as much as a wife should, but she did. She loved her memories of him in the beginning of their marriage. Before he started to lose himself to the bottle.

Everything would be different now. She would refill their bank account with her performances for Roger's and Hammerstein and it would fix everything. Perhaps they'd get a little apartment in New York and she could start a new career. Perhaps the rumors from ten years ago would be lost in a new country. She would be the famous French soprano and not the soprano with her name tied to the Phantom of the Opera Populaire.

New York would bring her something new. She could feel it in her bones. Something exciting was going to happen there. Everything was going to change and she just knew it was going to be for the best. She just knew it.


	3. Chapter 3

Drunk.

He was drunk again, which was no surprise to any of the bartenders who worked the bar on the ship. They'd seen him come and drown his sorrows every night since the journey began. It was a long voyage and they knew that many passengers enjoyed a good nightcap to set them off at the end of the day – but Raoul's drinking was no casual night time remedy. No, his was a serious issue. But who were they to deny a patron an expensive drink to tide him over?

"Another." Raoul barked, slamming his shot class down on the bar.

"You think that's a good idea?" The bartender asked, pouring the drink nevertheless. "You've been here all evening? Don't you have that pretty wife to go back to?"

Raoul turned and glared at the bartender, "I don't believe it's your place to tell me where I should be going."

"Look _man_, I'm trying to make small talk. Most people come to a bar, looking for a bit of psychology."

"I see." Raoul mused, rubbing the edge of the shot glass along his bottom lip. "I don't think my wife loves me."

"What happened?"

"We had a son and she lost interest in me."

"How long ago was this?"

Raoul gritted his teeth, "Gustave is ten this year, and we've been married ten years."

"If you've had a dry spell for ten years I can see why you're losing yourself in a bottle of liquor." The bartender tried to chuckle and make light of the situation. "Have you mentioned this issue with her?"

"You think I haven't tried to put the passion back into our marriage for the past ten years?" Raoul snapped, "She's just lost interest in that aspect of marriage."

"Perhaps because you return to her drunk?"

"No." Raoul furrowed his brow, "I started drinking after she started denying my advances."

"Did this happen shortly after the birth of your son?"

"Yes."

The bartender nodded his head, "When I got married to my wife, we were fortunate enough to find we were expecting just a few short weeks after our wedding. My wife was disinterested in anything but the baby until our little girl was nearly a year old. She was all focused on being a good mother and less about being a good wife. Celia had to learn from scratch about being a mother. Her own mother died shortly after she was born and she didn't know how to be a mother."

"Christine's mother died shortly after she was born as well. Her father when she barely ten. I suppose that could be one reason that she's concentrating on being a mother and not a wife." Raoul shrugged, downing the shot. "It doesn't help me solve anything however."

"Try talking with her when you're sober."

"She won't listen. She doesn't see me with the same eyes she once looked at me with. She no longer sees a sweet young Vicomte, instead she sees a barreling drunk who's past his prime."

"Make her see that you wish to be different."

Raoul shook his head, "It's a lost cause bartender."

"Joe."

"Joe." Raoul motioned to the shot glass, "A few more shots and then I think I'm through for the night."

"Are you going to try to remedy your issues?"

Raoul huffed, "I'm not sure."

~o~

Christine had already, long, gone to bed. She wasn't waiting up for her drunken husband to barrel through the door and list out everything she'd done wrong in their marriage. She was not dealing with this. She was going to New York to sing for Rogers and Hammerstein to cover the debts that Raoul had amassed from drinking and gambling. Since Raoul's behavior at dinner the night before, she'd given up waiting up for him. If he wanted to drink himself into oblivion, she wasn't waiting up.

"Christine." Raoul shook her as gently as his drunken coordination could allow. "Christine, wake up."

"What do you want?" Christine mumbled, groggily rolling over in bed.

Raoul narrowed his eyes, "I only meant to… I came.. Forget it." He barked, turning away. He discarded his bowtie across the room in a frustrated huff.

"What's wrong?" Christine asked, rubbing her eyes as she noticed that Raoul hadn't initially come back angry with her. "I didn't mean to snap, I was still asleep."

"_Forget it_." Raoul snarled, jerking his waistcoat off and throwing it down on the chaise. "Am I at least allowed to sleep with you?"

"Of course." Christine patted the bed, trying not to question him about what was wrong. She'd seen him in many states, but she'd never seen him try to – perhaps – apologize. She couldn't even bite back the question, "What's _really_ wrong Raoul? Please tell me."

"Why would you care?"

"Because I married you, we had a son, and I love you very much." Christine bit her lip, sitting up in the bed and staring at him across the dark room. She could make out his shape in the darkness, and even from that little figure she could tell that he was fuming. "I don't want to fight Raoul. Especially on this ship, where neither of us can run away from our difficulties. Please, let's just try to mend our differences."

"You only initiate something with me when you think I'm furious. When I try _anything_ you completely shut me out."

"How much have you drunk?" Christine asked, side stepping the question as she got out of bed to help the wobbling drunk. "Not that it effects this conversation – I only wish we could have it sober."

"_Christine_." Raoul moaned, fumbling down onto the bed. "I don't understand why we have to do this when I'm sober. I just want to get this conversation over with. Is that _so_ much to ask?"

"We should have it in the morning after you handle your hangover." Christine insisted, helping to tug his shoes off of his feet. "You should sleep this off right now and we can talk later."

"Christine, why is there nothing between us anymore? What I wouldn't give to go back to that time on the roof of the Opera Populaire," Raoul's voice suddenly changed from cold, to reminiscent. There was warmth in his voice that she hadn't heard in years. "I want _that_ back. I want the Christine who wanted to be nowhere but in my arms."

"Raoul-"

"It's all I ask of you." He mumbled, catching her hands and showering them with sloppy kisses.

"I want us to be like that again too." Christine didn't really feel that way. She hadn't felt that way in a long time. The farther they grew apart the more satisfied she felt with being to people sleeping in bed together and nothing more.

"I don't believe you." Raoul pouted, pulling her close to him. "Promise me all you say is true."

"_Raoul_." She was impatient with him as he tried in vain to pull her on to the bed with him. "You're drunk."

"I want my wife."

"She's right here, but she doesn't think it would be wise for us to do this tonight."

"She never thinks it's wise."

Christine sighed, resigning herself to the fate again. She'd ruined herself ten years ago. Raoul was always being compared to a memory she held so high that it had become distorted and no longer resembled the real experience. It became a fantasy that felt real. A fantasy Raoul fell short in comparison.

"I love you Christine. I need you. There's nothing wrong in a man and his wife sharing these intimacies. _Please_."

Christine moved around the bed, slipping beneath the covers with him. There was nothing romantic about a drunken husband insisting upon making love to you, nothing passionate about him seeking his own desires and leaving yours forgotten. He seemed triumphant as he pulled her close to him and found himself drifting asleep with utter exhaustion.

Would it be vain of her to cry herself to sleeping in her husband's arms? She should be satisfied with her life. She was married to a Vicomte, though he'd spent much of their fortune on a roulette table, she had a beautiful son, she still had her looks, she wanted for nothing. Though she craved the passion that she couldn't find with Raoul, there were some wishes that could never be granted.

She wanted to feel worshipped.

**A/N: First update since August! How was everyone's Christmas?**


End file.
